


Pathetic Lifeform

by I_Gave_You_Fair_Warning



Series: In Nauseating Variety: Theed Generator [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode I: The Phantom Menace, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: Rise of Empire Era - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Ending, Gen, Tragedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-13
Updated: 2017-01-26
Packaged: 2018-09-08 08:36:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,617
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8837785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/I_Gave_You_Fair_Warning/pseuds/I_Gave_You_Fair_Warning
Summary: Regret





	1. Chapter 1

“When you see an opening, take it.”

Qui-Gon sent his apprentice a nod to let him know he'd been heard, and wondered what Obi-Wan knew that he didn't.

And then, for a moment, the Sith's lightsaber was stuck.

Qui-Gon heard the scream more than he felt it.

It was his own.

Obi-Wan merely gasped, dropped his saber, and clutched at the hilt of the blade buried deep in his body.

The Sith looked amused, then tried to pull away.

Obi-Wan refused to let go.

Somehow, Qui-Gon lunged forward and beheaded the Sith, throwing its body and his own lightsaber to the side as he carefully wrapped his hands around the hilt still transfixing his apprentice.

Slowly, Obi-Wan let go.

Qui-Gon's fingers found the ignition switch, and he thumbed it off.

Obi-Wan choked, collapsing forward into Qui-Gon's arms.

The larger man gathered him up like a child and rushed for the door.

The movement jolted Obi-Wan too much and a terrible cry was torn from his lips.

Qui-Gon froze.

“What— are you doing?” Obi-Wan panted, looking up at him with eyes glazed in pain.

“I have to get you to help. I have no way to  _call_ for it, so we have to  _go—_ ”

Obi-Wan coughed, his whole body shuddering. “It's too late.”  
“ _No—_ ” Qui-Gon started walking again.

“Stop.  _Please._ Please,” Obi-Wan begged, sounding close to tears.

Torn, Qui-Gon acquiesced, lowering him gently to the ground.

Obi-Wan's fingers tried to find purchase on his sleeve. “Can you forgive me—?”  
“What for?”

“Tahl,” the boy whispered.

Qui-Gon's heart gave a painful throb. “There is nothing to forgive,” he murmured.

“ _Don't_ frip with me, Master,” Obi-Wan breathed, intensity all through his weakened voice. “Not today. I know you blame me for her death.”

Qui-Gon struggled to retain his composure. “I  _shouldn't_ have. I don't  _anymore—_ ”

“I— never wanted  _justification._ ” His apprentice kicked feebly at the floor, face twisted in agony. “All I wanted was your forgiveness. But since— since it's too much to ask, accept this as payment. Blood for blood.” Another shudder convulsed his small frame. “Perhaps, once I'm gone, you'll consider my debt cleared.”

“ _No_ , Obi-Wan— tell me you didn't let him do this to you on  _purpose—_ Obi-Wan,  _tell me—_ ”

“The guilt wasn't worth living with anymore,” Obi-Wan murmured as if that made all the sense in the world. “I loved you, Master, I always have. You were a father to me—”

“Enough. I am  _not_ losing you like this.” Qui-Gon stood once more, ignoring Obi-Wan's soft moan of torment.

“—all I ever brought you was a broken heart and a responsibility and weight you didn't want— If I hadn't been there, you would have been fast enough to save Tahl. You were right. I wasn't worth taking.”  
“Stop. Just  _stop,_ Obi-Wan,” Qui-Gon growled, moving as quickly as his feet would take him without jarring the breaking body in his arms.

Obi-Wan's head lolled back, his neck muscles unable to hold its weight. Qui-Gon rolled it to his shoulder and kept moving.

“And now— you've found someone you  _do_ want— and I would be the anchor dragging you down again. We—  _both_ know I wouldn't pass my trials. I— I couldn't bear to destroy your life  _again—_ ”

“You hold on,” Qui-Gon commanded. “We're going to make it out of here, Padawan. Don't you  _dare_ die on me.”  
“I'm giving you freedom, Qui-Gon. I'm releasing you from a pathetic lifeform that you took in and kept for far too long. I— you've done so much for me. Now— it's my turn. Here— give Anakin my riverstone. Tell him what it means— all of what it means. I hope— I hope he will be the Padawan that I couldn't be for you— the one you deserve— powerful, with a promising future—”

“ _Stop it_ !” Qui-Gon choked, tears flooding his eyes. He shook his head, desperately needing to  _see_ so he wouldn't  _trip_ and hurt this wounded child  _more—_

“I don't know what it was I lacked. I don't know. Anakin... clearly  _has_ it... whatever it is...  _please_ , just don't forget me entirely. I— I know I wasn't worth your time— but for a few years, I thought maybe I might reach my dream. You gave me hope.”

His Force-signature winked, and Qui-Gon froze, attempting to still his wheezing in order to  _hear_ Obi-Wan's own breaths, to  _see_ the rise and fall—

His face was drained of all color. His eyes so bright. Feverishly so.

“Obi-Wan.  _Obi-Wan._ Listen to me. I had no idea you felt so worthless. I'm  _sorry_ . Please,  _please_ listen to me—”

Qui-Gon felt the precise moment the child of his heart joined the Force. It was like a saber to his soul.

The light fled from those beloved eyes, muscles sagged—

His body hung broken and lifeless in Qui-Gon's arms.

Qui-Gon fell to his knees and hugged it close, feeling slack lips be pushed away by gravity, feeling Obi-Wan's teeth against his shoulder.

A keening wail escaped him.

_No. No, no, no._

His child. His wonderful, selfless child.

_How_ could he have  _not_ seen how much Qui-Gon loved him?

_I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Obi-Wan._

_“All I wanted was your forgiveness.”_

Now Qui-Gon knew how that need burned in a soul. Consumed it from the inside out.

_“Accept this as payment. Blood for blood.”_

No blood could ever blot out the terrible cruelty he'd inflicted on the creature who had loved him with all its desperate, outcast heart.

 


	2. Blessings in Blood

Grief was his. It was personal.

Some people were willing to share it with the world around them.

Let curious eyes see.

Qui-Gon wasn't built that way.

The newly-made Chancellor, who stood looking so solemn, didn't  _care._ Not really. And Queen Amidala, looking slightly more stunned, had only seen his Padawan and himself as a means to an end.

So many newly-met, unfamiliar faces watched his, waiting to see his heart bleed. Ready to gawk at every drop torn from his soul.

But those crimson tears belonged to himself and Obi-Wan alone.

Obi-Wan had felt unwanted. Unvalued.

Qui-Gon wouldn't make the last thing they could share  _common._

A small hand tugged at his robes, and Qui-Gon looked down into the tumultuous eyes of Anakin Skywalker.

Blue.

But these blue orbs didn't have the quiet patience of his Obi-Wan. Didn't have the driving desire to please.

These were eyes that would someday defy him and never apologize.

There was an arrogance built into the soul of this tiny creature that his Obi-Wan had never possessed.

_If he had... would he still be alive now?_

Fire caressed and destroyed Obi-Wan's body, the stench of it burning Qui-Gon's eyes.

He kept expecting his Padawan—  _yes,_ his  _Padawan—_ to sit up. To speak.

But the only voice that struck his ear had an Outer Rim accent.

“What will happen to me now?”

Qui-Gon  _tried_ to focus on Anakin, he really did—

But all he could see was what he had lost.

_“Isn't that what you did to Obi-Wan, over Xanatos?”_ a voice within him whispered.  _“He gave you his blessing to train Anakin and find happiness in it.”_

The riverstone felt like it might burn a hole through his tunic and brand his skin.

A blessing in blood.

He  _couldn't_ do to Anakin what he'd done to Obi-Wan.

He couldn't betray another child that way.

_Help me, Obi-Wan. Never let me forget._

 

* * *

 

Ahsoka lay curled up asleep, the light of the fire casting strange shadows against her skin.

Qui-Gon had chosen his place on the opposite side of the fire, mostly so that Ahsoka could watch behind his back and he behind hers.

It was excellent, strategically.

Except for the part where the Padawan fell asleep.

Qui-Gon moved as close to the mouth of the cave as he could given the violence of the storm, and longed to simply rush out into it and find his former Padawan.

Anakin was out there somewhere.

And so was the being who  _knew._

Knew about the prophecy.

Somehow extinguished his and Ahsoka's lightsabers.

Who had a power in the Force that made Qui-Gon fear.

He returned to the fire, calling on all of Yoda's lessons to calm his turbulence.

If he wore himself out  _now,_ when he could do nothing, he would be of very little use to Anakin when he finally  _could_ do something.

So he sat down again. Intentionally relaxed his muscles.

Focused on breathing.

“Master. Did you train the boy?”

Qui-Gon's head came up, a surge of emotion shattering through his soul.

Obi-Wan stood in the fire.

Qui-Gon sprang up and backwards, his body instinctively preparing for disaster. He felt the vibration, and realized his lightsaber was in his hand and lit.

“Obi-Wan?” he asked, his voice somehow steady. How,  _how_ was it steady? “How are you here?”

Obi-Wan Kenobi was dead.

And the dead did not return.

“I am here because you are here,” Obi-Wan explained, apparently unconcerned by the saber's blade.

Not that it could harm him.

Not now.

Obi-Wan walked towards him, leaving the flames, like a mist given form. A gentle glow surrounded him.

Qui-Gon stared at the face in which there were no signs of pain or grief. There hung the Padawan braid he'd never had a chance to sever. The pale tunics were whole and uncharred.

“I don't understand,” he admitted through the ache in his heart. “What is this place?”

“Unlike any other. A conduit, through which the entire Force of the universe flows.” Obi-Wan looked out to where white lightning lashed the ground.

Qui-Gon thought of Anakin, out there somewhere. Perhaps alone.

Perhaps with one or the other of the tremendous Force-wielders they had already encountered.

They had no idea where their ship was.

And even if they did, Qui-Gon wasn't entirely sure this was a place you could simply... fly away from.

It's not like they'd flown  _in._ Not intentionally, at least.

“Are we in danger?” he asked, glancing back at Ahsoka's sleeping form, to ensure this wasn't a distraction, some trick by that red-eyed darksider.

Obi-Wan turned, and Qui-Gon could see the glowing crystals that lined the walls through his arms, driving home the falseness of the form he seemed to carry. “This planet is both an amplifier and a magnet. Three are here who seek Skywalker.”

_ Three? _

That was good to know.

But Obi-Wan wasn't done. He took one step closer, so close now that Qui-Gon could reach out and touch him, if he dared.

He didn't, because he feared his fingers would pass through his former apprentice's shoulder.

And that would hurt. Far too much.

Obi-Wan's eyes were gentle, and his voice quiet. “They, like you, believe him to be the Chosen One.”

_ They're after Ani. _

Qui-Gon extinguished his lightsaber and returned it to his belt. “The Force within him is stronger than any known Jedi,” he murmured. “I've trained him as well as I could, but he's still willful, and balance eludes him.” Somehow, he looked down into eyes that looked up so lovingly into his own.

“If he is the Chosen One, he will discover it here.”

“And if not?” Qui-Gon felt just a flicker of doubt, one that had lurked ever since Obi-Wan's death.

Obi-Wan bowed his head, expression grave. “Then you must realize, with his power, this is a very dangerous place for him to be.”

“How can we—”

Obi-Wan was looking over his shoulder, and as he slowly looked back up into his former Master's face, he took several steps back and away. The terrible burn mark spread across his tunics, pallor claimed his face—

“Master,” he whispered in anguish. “ _ Run. _ ” His head fell back, his body spasmed, was wreathed in flames so bright Qui-Gon had to shield his eyes—

And then he was gone.

And there was only the campfire.

_ Run from what? To where?  _ Qui-Gon's heart cried into the emptiness.

Always into emptiness.

 

 


	3. Tears of Fire

He stood there, so strong, so powerful.

His eyes glittering an insane gold.

_I failed him. Somehow, I failed him._

“Don't try it!” he pleaded—

Anakin's coiled form sprang, and Qui-Gon's body was moving before thought was possible. Honed to react to danger, to react without hesitation—

To kill—

_Xanatos_ .

He couldn't kill  _another—_

He pulled up, tried to stop— to avoid—

But the momentum, the swing—

He heard a scream. Realized he'd been successful in forestalling decapitating his former apprentice.

And then he was looking down at the wounded figure sliding down the black sands.

For a moment, the universe spun as he saw two legs and an arm no longer connected to the young body slowly writhing against the pain.

In horror, in disbelief, Qui-Gon stared down at him.  _How could I have lost three of the four children I shepherded?_

Anakin stared up at him, eyes bleeding gold.

Xanatos...

But so much worse.

“You were the Chosen One!” Qui-Gon cried, his heart breaking, tears blurring his vision.

Neither of them had any doubt. Not after Mortis.

Things had become far, far to clear there.

His Chosen One.

A boy, a man, a soul he'd believed in.

“It was said you'd  _destroy_ the Sith, not join them. Bring balance to the Force, not leave it in darkness.” Qui-Gon felt the roaring agony of the Force as howling despair screamed through it, no light left to counteract it.

The terrible silence where once there had been ten thousand voices raised in song.

Lives, at one with nature, with the universe, with one another—

His  _family._

_Dead._ Gone.

Betrayed by the boy he loved  _so much—_

Betrayed by the boy Obi-Wan had died trying to protect—

_Children,_ dead by this boy's hand—

He'd thought his heart could never shatter as terribly as it already had.

But now—

No.

Nothing,  _nothing_ compared to this.

But Anakin stared up at him with fury, unable to even comprehend that Qui-Gon might be in just as much pain as himself.

Only it was Qui-Gon's soul in agony. Not his body.

If it had been physical, he might have been able to endure it.

He heard a heartbroken song, one that matched his own.

Anakin's lightsaber crystal. Horrified, by what it had been made to do. Desperate. Grieved. Images that it would never be able to escape, a stain it would always bear.

Qui-Gon reached for it, recognizing its pain matched his own.

Crystals didn't call to those steeped in the dark side. They  _hid_ from them. It's why Sith lightsabers burned red— instead of hearing the call and finding their crystals, they stole them.

And when the crystal refused to bond, they  _forced_ it to.

And the crystal would bleed eternally, silent tears of anguish as it was made to serve the dark.

But this crystal had believed in Anakin, just like Qui-Gon had.

It had called to the young man, had bonded with him of its own free will—

It had  _chosen_ him—

And he had betrayed it.

Qui-Gon's fingers clutched around the cold metal.

He and the crystal weren't the only ones left alive.

Anakin's wife lay on the platform above, his  _child_ lay there—

He looked down at the steep incline, at the loose gravel.

If he had been alone, he would have risked it. Would have slid down the incline to reach his former apprentice. If he fell in the flame,  _so be it._

Life had very little meaning to it anymore.

But  _his_ wasn't the only life at stake.

If he fell... then Padmé would be on her own.

He didn't know how badly she was injured, or how long she might have.

And this facility was failing. The likelihood was that the whole thing would be claimed by lava soon.

Days ago, in another lifetime, Anakin Skywalker would gladly have given up his life to protect his wife and unborn baby.

Would have told him to  _stop wasting time_ and  _go—_

To  _forget_ about him—

Today, he may have killed them, but it was the Anakin of the past Qui-Gon honored as he worked his way up the hill, walking sideways, careful where he placed his steps—

He had to live.

For at least a little while longer.

Every step he took, he desperately longed to hear Anakin ask two simple words.  _Help me._

If the boy said them, Qui-Gon would throw caution to the wind. He would risk Padmé and the baby, selfish as that would be, to—

“ _I hate you!_ ”

His heart was already lying in shards around his feet.

But somehow, the black venom Anakin hurled towards him in the Force....

Qui-Gon felt something else break inside.

He had no idea what it was.

But he could feel the cold rush of anguished wind that beat against his unprotected spirit, he could  _hear_ the screams of the slaughtered children, their desperate cries of  _“It's_ me,  _Master Skywalker! What did I do wrong?_ Please _!”_

Qui-Gon stared down at Anakin. Into those blood-shot yellow eyes.

He'd hoped the pain might wake his Anakin up. Jolt him back from this...  _whatever_ this was.

But if Padmé's heartbreak, physical pain, and Qui-Gon's own devastation couldn't reach Anakin...

Nothing could.

The two people he loved most in the world...

And he just didn't care.

I hate you, he'd said.

And the honesty of it hollowed his Master's bones.

Qui-Gon reached out in the Force to him, one final, silent plea.  _“Let me help you. Please let me help—”_

Anakin met his words with a vicious snarl, and cut their bond. The severed ends snapped back, lashing Qui-Gon's brain, burning, gouging—

Qui-Gon didn't reel. He didn't fall to his knees.

He didn't scream.

But a single tear slipped down his cheek.

On the flight here, he'd exhausted his store of them, and only this one remained.

Now lost.

And given that broken something...

He wondered if he would ever weep again.

Somehow, he doubted it.

“You were a son to me, Anakin,” Qui-Gon choked. “I  _loved_ you.”

Fire burst to life at the Sith's cut-off legs.

_Fire._

Both Jedi and Sith had been assailed by embers and drips of lava all through their fight—

Not once had their clothing come anywhere  _near_ catching fire.

No.

The heat required to ignite something as uninteresting to flame as Anakin's clothes was astronomical.

To convince it to consume flesh, filled with blood, required an even greater temperature.

Fire was temperamental.

But it  _chose_ him.

Found something that could feed its hunger, and was worth the inconvenience.

Qui-Gon stared down at him, and realized—

He felt—

The yawning gulf in his heart—

No—

Where his heart  _used to be—_

Should he kill him? Put him out of this misery?

Should he walk down there and put a saber in him? Should he Force-push him into the lava? Should he close off his airways—?

The Force nudged him, pulling him away—

_But compassion—_ he thought—

But harder the Cosmic Force drew him.

It wasn't a whisper he felt often.

Obi-Wan had. He'd lived and breathed the Cosmic Force.

Anakin's hand reached up—

For a moment Qui-Gon thought it was to ask for help—

And then he felt the drag at his throat.

No.

Anakin was trying to pull him in  _too._

Again the Cosmic Force pulled at him, an urgent call he could not ignore—

So he walked away.

Walked towards Anakin's unborn child.

Towards Padmé.

Towards a future he very much hoped he wouldn't live to see.

_Was I too focused on the moment?_ he wondered.  _Did I follow the Living Force to the exclusion of the Cosmic? Had I been listening, would I have seen this coming?_

He thought of all the times he'd rebuked Anakin, told him to simply  _obey._

Obi-Wan had always submitted, when he did that.

_“The Council will decide Anakin's fate. That should be good enough for you. Now get on board.”_

It had stunned him when Anakin fought back.

Obi-Wan never did, to the harsh words thrown his way.

And when Qui-Gon waited in silence, wondering why he and his Padawan hadn't reconciled yet...

He could see the answer now.

Obi-Wan would come to  _him_ after such a put-down.  _“I apologize for my behavior, Master. It was not my place to disagree with you...”_

Anakin had never once said something like that.

And so they'd struggled through the teenage years.

Qui-Gon had thought they'd overcome all that, had found a beautiful place, after Anakin's knighting—

But clearly...

_Things weren't as well as I thought they were._

Again.

_I couldn't see the forest, because I was too busy looking at the tree in front of me._

Qui-Gon had excelled at the small picture.

But the big one had struck him as surely as a saber.

He couldn't help but think of Obi-Wan. So calm, so level-headed—

_Obi-Wan, what if I had been the one to fall that day in Theed?_

At the time, there had been no-one to teach Anakin...

_I would have asked you to train him._

What might Anakin have looked like, had he lived under the tutelage of someone who didn't dismiss the Cosmic Force out of hand?  _I'm an old fool, set in his ways._

_Yes. I should have been the one to die._

_And you the one to live._

_Surely_ something  _could have been done to prevent this._

_Surely this is my fault._

_I failed Anakin somehow._

He knelt by Padmé's side, reached out in the Force—

And had the horrible realization that he'd spent too long with Anakin.

Her skin was cold. Her pulse gone.

And the child within...

Just as dead as its mother.

Qui-Gon wondered at the fact that he didn't feel an increase in his pain.

But, he supposed, when a man has been gutted...

There is nothing left to tear out.

 

 

 


End file.
